


A First Time for Everything

by htfrjolenz



Series: The Adventures and Perils of Davy Jones [2]
Category: The Monkees
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Drama, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5817019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htfrjolenz/pseuds/htfrjolenz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(The Monkees are as they were in 1966 in this saga but this is an altered reality story, it takes place in modern times and certain facts have been changed to create the plot and environment.)</p><p>Summary: Series follower to The Long Road Home ~<br/>Davy, so happy in his newfound freedom and budding romance goes out alone to buy gifts for his new mates.. and never makes it back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> VERY hardcore sexual descriptions, foul language, violence  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing Monkees related and all of this is a work of fiction - it never happened except in my cracked brain. I make no aspersions upon anyone's sexual preferences

   " **WOW**!"  
   Climbing out of the GTO, Davy stared up at the beach house that was his new home. Backpacks in hand the handsome young Englishman stood, mouth open, genuinely impressed.   
    "I've never lived in a beach 'ouse before," Davy mused.  
    "First time for everything," Mike said, gathering his bags from the Pontiac's trunk.  
    "Home sweet home," Peter said excitedly as he walked past him.  
    "You're gonna _love_ the pad," Micky grinned, taking him by the elbow, "Come on, I'll show you our room!"   
    Stepping inside Davy was surprised at the size of the place; from the outside it didn't seem so big. He glanced around for mere seconds before Micky was dragging him up a spiral staircase to the second floor. He was learning fast that the Italian-American he'd spent the six-hour ride home lip-locked with could talk a mile a minute.   
    "So this is our room and that's my bed but you can really have _whatever_ bed you want or we can push them together and make em like one _huge_ bed or if you want you can sleep by the window or closer to the door. There’s only one closet but it's a really _REALLY_ big closet so it'll be ok but if you want I can move my stuff to the dresser and give it to you or maybe you'd _rather_ have the dresser I dunno but -"  
    "Erm.. _Micky_?” Davy said with a tight expression on his face, "where's the _bathroom_?" He was beginning to dance in place.   
    "Oh.. sure," Micky smiled knowingly, "the one up here is broke till we call a plumber, so down here."  
    Out the door like a flash Micky balanced on the banister and slid all the way to the bottom. If he didn't have to pee so bad Davy would've been impressed, instead he hustled down the steps and followed Micky's 'right over there' into the loo.   
           (Sweet relief, thought I was gonna _bust_!)  
    Once out in the kitchen Davy took another look around the house. It was a comfortable place with mismatched furnishings, not very modern but clean and homey. Taking everything in, he turned around to see a set of bay doors opening onto a veranda. Directly in front of them was a makeshift bandstand with amps, a drum kit, a small keyboard and two guitars. Two microphone stands stood off to the left. His own musical interests piquing his curiosity he went for a closer look.   
    Across the room, Mike watched his new young housemate with keen eyes. Something about the boy's body rhythm and the lyrical, animated way in which he spoke, made the Texan suspect a budding musician lurked beneath the shy surface David presented. Micky and Peter caught his gaze and watched, now curious as well.  
    Davy stepped up onto the platform and was immediately drawn to Mike's twelve-string guitar. He gingerly touched his fingertips to its bridge with the sort of reverence that only a true musician would understand. Gently, he ran his fingers along the length of the strings and almost caressed the machine heads. He eyed the beauty a moment longer then turned to Peter's bass. He seemed to be equally enthralled with the six stringed guitar, running his hand smoothly along the soundboard. He looked to the drums. The shiny cymbals, the taut white skins - then something caught his eye. A pair of red maracas lay on a stool, sitting inside a silver and wood tambourine. He picked up the jingly instrument, admiring its perfect fit in his small hands. Without thinking of his captive audience, he began to dance and tap out a smooth but vigorous rhythm. His nimble legs moved gracefully and with great flair, his entire body moving perfectly to the beat he was creating.   
    All of a sudden he broke into song - and his _voice_! The three musicians watched in utter amazement as, eyes closed as if lost in his own world, he turned toward them singing his heart out. He carried a perfect tune and his dance steps were in perfect sync. He spun in a circle, dropped to the floor in a semi-split and came immediately to his feet again in a stunning display. Opening his eyes Davy realized he was the object of his roommates' scrutiny and the impromptu concert came to a screeching halt. For a few seconds, nobody said a word. Mortified, Davy whirled around and returned the tambourine to its place. Red-faced, he quickly ducked out the bay doors and ran for the beach below.   
    "Now _what'd_ he take off for?" Mike said, "Did y'all get a load of his voice? And those dance moves!"  
    "He musta got embarrassed when he saw us all watching him," Micky frowned.  
    "I don't see why, he's _very_ talented," Peter piped in.  
    "We need to go talk to him,“ Mike said, ”come on.“  
    Plodding down through the sand, they found their pint-size friend sitting against a large boulder near the water's edge. He sat with his knees pulled close to his chest hugging them tightly. When the three approached him he looked away, still feeling self-conscious.  
    "Say partner," Mike drawled as he sat down beside Davy, "why'd you go runnin off like'at?"  
Micky and Peter sat down, closing a semi-circle around their littlest mate. Davy looked down at his knees searching for answers.   
    "I.. I made a bloody _fool_ of m'self back there, I …”  
    He turned away from them, a pink heat staining his cheeks.  
    "Now that's just _two sandwiches_ shy of a picnic!" Mike said, a tendency to slip into Pure Texas when he was fueled up.  
    " _Wuzzat_ mean?" Davy asked, their accents colliding in his head.  
    "It means it's crazy for you to talk like that. I'm not an easy person to impress, but buddy boy you put a shine on my boots that'd blind a _dead hog_!"  
    Davy looked to Micky in confusion, hoping for a translation.   
    "He means David that -"  
    "Could you chaps not call me David? It sounds so.. _formal_."  
    The boys looked at each other, eyebrows arched.   
    "Well.. whatta ya want us to _call_ you?" Micky asked.   
    "I prefer Davy."  
   Micky's grin split from ear to ear.   
   "Davy it is then," Mike said with a wink.  
   "So ok _Davy_ , what Mike was trying to say is it's ridiculous for you to be embarrassed.. cuz you were _awesome_!  
   Peter and Mike bobbed their heads in agreement.   
   "You fellas wouldn't blow _wind_ up me skirt would ya?"  
   The boys blinked at Davy's Brit-speak totally lost.  
   "Can you say that in _American_ Tiny?" Mike grinned.   
   " _Wha' **TINY**_?" Davy barked, clearly rankled.   
   "Term of endearment, slugger," Mike soothed Davy's hackles, "were all pretty big n well - you're - tiny. Don’t sweat it none, it _suits_ you. "  
    " _Hmmm_ ," was Davy’s reply.   
    "So what about a skirt?" Micky asked, still befuddled.   
   "I asked if you guys were trying to loosen me lug nuts.. _toss me a peanut_?"  
   "Sorry cookie.. still not following you," Micky shook his head.   
   Exasperated Davy reached for the right words. He stood up and scratched his chin.  
   "Yer know - like a lark.. pullin' me _leg_ or wha'?"  
   " _ **OHH**_!" They cried in unison.   
   "Listen Davy, I've been struggling to make my way in the music business for a long time," Mike began, " I've seen em come and I've seen em go … I've seen no-talents and others destined for the stars. _You_ my young friend are gonna hit the **stars**."  
   He stared at them, one to another, reading their eyes - searching to see if it was a joke, a mockery. All he found was sincerity and truth.  
   "Y-you really think I 'ave.. _talent_?"  
   The cacophony of their mingled, enthusiasm in telling him most certainly they did was a deliciously noisy din in his ears.  
   "Tiny, we had a fourth member in the group up until about a month ago. Well he up n got hisself _hitched_ n left the band. He was a front-man of sorts and our percussionist n well; we've been scrambling to find a replacement for him. You have the talent and _definitely_ the looks n well - I believe I speak for all of us when I say that you're the answer to our prayers."  
   "You _gotta_ do it Davy," Micky pleaded, "with your skills our group will really take off!"  
   Davy looked expectantly at Peter, who didn't disappoint.   
   "Davy, a true musician doesn't play or make music; they draw it out of their very own _souls_. The passion they have for it is in their eyes and body language. Watching you dance and sing back there lifted my spirits so high I had to look down to see Heaven."   
   Davy was speechless. He walked a few feet away and turned back to them, a hesitant smile playing about his lips.  
   "You guys really _mean_ it? You want me in yer _band_?"  
   Smiling and nodding enthusiastically, the unanimous reply was a resounding yes.   
   "Well alright then! Guess I'm an entertainer now. "  
   "Atta boy!" Mike said standing and clapping a hand on his shoulder.  
   "That's _great_ Davy," Peter positively beamed.  
   "We're going to make _beautiful_ music together Cookie," Micky said, planting a kiss on his forehead.   
   "C'mon," Mike said, turning toward the house, "lets all get gussied up and go out for dinner to celebrate.”  
   Walking up the bank toward their happy little nest Davy was excited, walking on air he felt as if he were on the top of the world.  
   "I've never been in a _band_ before," he mused.   
   "Well there's a first time for everything Davy," Peter said with a wink.  
   Micky threw an arm around his diminutive partner as they ambled up the steps.  
   "… _Cookie_?" he asked giving Micky a wry look.  
   "Well yaa. You're small and sweet, "he leaned in to whisper the rest, "and you'd look _delicious_ covered in chocolate!"  
       Davy blushed the rest of the way home.   
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

   The boys chose Geoffrey's of Malibu, an upscale surf-n-turf restaurant with a fabulous view of the ocean, for their celebratory dinner. Opting to sit on the outdoor terrace, they enjoyed their meal in the salty air in view of the ebbing sun. Sparing no expense, Mike dipped into Tony's generous gift and instructed the boys to order as they pleased. Peter ordered shrimp ceviche and bay scallops in a tarragon cream sauce. Micky had a fabulous seafood soup and steak tartar with a green salad. Texan all the way, Mike ordered their porterhouse meal with a giant baked potato.  
   Much to their surprise, their tiny friend put away more food than any of them: Davy indulged in a fourteen-ounce rib eye steak, a huge Maine lobster drowning in butter sauce, a baked sweet potato and a chef’s salad.  
   " _Wow_! _**WHERE**_ did you put _ALL_ of that _FOOD_?” Micky groaned, holding his stomach.  
Totally sated Peter slumped in his seat, his stomach aching, he grimaced as Davy polished off his meal.  
   "Man you must have a _hollow leg_!" Mike said, eyeing his own unfinished meal.  
   Chagrined, Davy simply shrugged with a weak smile.  
   "I s'pose that means _dessert_ is outta the question?" The petite one asked.  
   Micky groaned, turning a distinct shade of green at the thought of more food.  
   "Knock yourself out Tiny," Mike smiled.  
   "They have the _creamiest_ ice cream here Davy," Peter said, still looking pallid, "and all the _best flavors_ too!"  
   A brief, uncomfortable silence descended on the table, the others quietly observing that Davy had paled noticeably.  
   "I erm don't much _care_ for ice cream.. in fact I'm rather _full_ … suddenly. "  
   He seemed distant suddenly, a sadness shadowing his previous sunny disposition, his comrades however didn't press him.  
   "You chaps mind if we 'ead on 'ome? I'm bloody _tired_ all of a sudden …"  
   "Sure thing partner," Mike said sympathetically, let's roll fellers."

   Back at the beach house Davy's mood brightened, but just a bit. A shower and clean pajamas set him back on his feet, in better spirits, his melancholy lifted. In the living room the guys were just saying good night.  
   "We'll talk about it more in the morning," Mike said to Micky, "y'all go ahead n gitcha some sleep. Night."  
   "Night chaps," Davy said with a yawn.  
   "G'night guys," Micky called.  
   The new lovers, alone at last glanced at each other, a palpable energy present between them. The room held a tense quiet as they considered each other for a moment, Davy nervously biting his lower lip.  
   "You uh ready to go.. _upstairs_?" Micky managed.  
   Davy nodded.  
   Reaching for the younger man's slightly trembling hand he led him up to their room. Once behind the closed door, they sat opposite each other on their own beds. Micky fingered the fringe on the edge of his comforter while Davy traced the intricate pattern of the blue shag carpet with his bare toes. In spite of the silence, an electric anticipation hung in the air between them, neither of them knowing exactly how to proceed.  
   "So …" Micky broke the interminable silence.  
   "R-right," Davy stammered in answer.  
   Nervously they looked into each other’s faces, both curious yet hesitant. Foregoing an all-night stare off, Micky stood and came to sit beside Davy on the bed. Placing his hand lightly on the other man's finely muscled back he began stroking in gentle circles.  
   "This okay?" He asked softly.  
   "Yes, i-its fine," Davy whispered breathlessly.  
   Micky turned his partner to face him. Still rubbing his back, he stroked Davy's hair with his free hand. Closing his eyes, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Davy's warm, waiting mouth. Delicious chills of excitement tingled up the Englishman’s spine as his soon-to-be lover prodded his tongue between his plump lips. Granting him entry, Micky swiped his tongue across the silky underside of Davy's, fighting a delicious duel, tasting him and inhaling his scent. Davy moaned as a sensual charge passed through his body, the electric tingle shooting straight to his groin. Stoked by his lover's response, Micky drew back.  
With nimble fingers, he unbuttoned the pajama shirt that stood between him and Davy's smooth skin, sliding it down the slim, strong arms he kissed the bare shoulder, letting it slip to the floor. Shrugging out of his own shirt, he applied gentle pressure to Davy's chest, urging him to lie back on the bed. Kicking off his shoes and socks Micky half-lay across the trembling, semi-nude body. Looking into frightened eyes, he whispered in a husky, throaty tone.  
   "Anytime you want me to stop little one, just _say_ so."  
   Nervous, Davy considered him a moment. He wanted very much to explore this new world with Micky, yet what he knew lay ahead intimidated him to his _very core_. Never breaking eye contact, Micky placed several warm kisses on the soft, fuzzy navel of his diminutive paramour. The sensation was both tender and seductive to Davy, swaying his eager body's decision before his mind even had a clue. A timid smile graced his supple lips, as he found himself reaching to twine his fingers in Micky's thick tumble of curly, dark hair.  
   Micky snuggled against him, his hot breath dangerously near to Davy's low waistline. He moved to lie atop the smaller man, unbuckling his belt. An impish grin split his face as he slid out of his jeans and tossed them aside. In a swift and dizzying motion, he rolled onto his back, switching positions with his younger counterpart. Prodding him to sit straddling his slender hips, he reached for the drawstring of his cotton sleep pants - and Davy froze. Body rigid, he stared down into Micky's face like a rabbit cornered by a coonhound. Micky looked at him and raised an eyebrow.  
   " _No_?" he said in a questioning tone.  
   "No -I - _yes_ ," Davy sputtered, "I.. I'm just _**nervous**_. I 'aven't done.. _much_."  
   Stroking the hair-free chest Micky spoke in a soothing lilt.  
   "Listen little one, I've had one - _experience_ \- a one-night-stand over a drunken weekend, with an old friend. I _know_ how you're feeling right now, and I'm not in _any_ kind of hurry. I want this to be great - for _**both**_ of us - I don't wanna push you to do stuff that makes you feel weird.  
   "It feels.. well _wonderful_. It's just, I - I know what it all eventually _comes_ to. I don't, erm - handle _pain_ very well."  
   "We can go slowly," Micky said sincerely, "there's a lot of ways to.. _please_ each other, without going **there** yet.  
   "I 'aven't done **_anything_** really," Davy blushed, "cept fer _snoggin_ ' a bit."  
   "Huh?"  
   "Uh, _makin' out_?”  
   "Oh," Micky chuckled.  
   "T-Tony, he was my only.. _experience_. I've never done _any_ of this before, but I want to Micky. With **you**."  
   "Well babe," Micky said silkily, "there's a first time for _everything_."  
   Davy searched the bigger man's eyes, finding love and tenderness in their umber depths. Smiling and reassured, he pulled the drawstring of his pajama bottoms and closed his eyes.  
   Micky made quick work of getting them both completely naked. They slid between the cotton sheets and lay facing one another, hearts pounding, they felt like two teenage virgins having their first ever experience. Kissing his neck beneath his ear, Micky created a trail of licks and kisses, sending a ticklish thrill to parts unknown. He lapped his tongue in tiny flicks against Davy's hardening nipples, reaching his hands to grip his lover's chattering hips.  
   " _Touch_ me Davy," Micky pleaded softly.  
   Small, nervous hands ran along Micky's love-tensed shoulders. Eyeing his lover’s graceful form, he freed his mind and let himself explore the youthful splendor of his lean body. With a curious and lusty fervor he wandered over the hills and valleys that made up the lengthy torso, that for all effects and purposes now belonged to him.n Micky inhaled sharply when searching hands brushed across the thatch of wiry fuzz that preceded his nether regions, thrusting his hips involuntarily upward. The thrill that this response brought to Davy both surprised him and fueled his growing desire.  
   On shaking hands and knees, he eased down the bed to bring himself to Micky's fully aroused erection. Timidly but with no apprehension he wrapped his hand around its bulk, the silky heat beneath his skin pulsing as if alive. The body attached to it writhed in an involuntary twisting stretch of sheer pleasure, his curious first touch awakening every cell. Slowly Davy began to work the length of the vibrant shaft in his now eager fist. He dared a quick kiss to its tip, nearly sending Micky head first into the headboard. A pleasured groan emanated from deep within the Italian's throat as his fingers clutched the sheet beneath him. Brazenly, Davy licked a slow stripe up the front of the fully engorged cock, wrapping the head briefly in his warm, slippery lips. Certain he would erupt on the spot Micky lurched forward, carefully but firmly moving his lover a safe distance from his trigger-ready hardness, fighting to catch his breath.  
   A lascivious gleam in his eyes, Micky moved upon his wee one with a ravenous passion. Pushing him onto his back, he wasted no time getting to the object of his desire. Davy watched, mesmerized and drunk with ardor as Micky lowered his mouth onto his throbbing tool. Sucking him in long, deep strides, Micky worked him into a frenzy. Moaning, his legs twisting with ecstasy, Davy's body felt a symphony of sensations that pushed him delightfully to the brink of madness. His torturous urges more than he could stand, Micky palmed his own throbbing cock. Vigorously jerking on his manhood, he proceeded to suck rapidly the head of the other man’s missile with tight, rhythmic strokes. Both reaching the brink, a growing, growling moan was building in them. Longer and louder they both uttered animalistic hums, a melodic litany to the advent of their budding explosions.  
   " _Please_ , oh _ **Micky**_!" Davy cried as the moment came upon him.  
   Relentlessly he drove his little lover to a shuddering whimpering climax, and swallowing his nectar exploded his own liquids into the palm of his hand.  
   They collapsed in a heap gasping and sweaty, their minds reeling their bodies soaring on wings of utter satisfaction. Side by side, Micky wrapped his arms around him, Davy snuggling into the graceful curve of his body. Tangled blissfully together their passions spent, they faded into the realm of Morpheus and slept.


	3. Chapter 3

   Days passed into weeks and the boys grew accustomed to their new routine as well as their new friendships. Davy fit easily into the newly formed family of brothers and was beyond happy with his new life. He had spent some time with Mike, fine-tuning the few songs he had written, his band mates being truly impressed with his songwriting skill. They taught him the songs that were in their repertoire, selecting several that were ideally suited to his vocal range. When they performed these would now be his. Together they created a set list to start rehearsing as a new band.

    "So we all agree then," Mike recapped the conversation; "we should find a new name for the group; but _what_?"  
   "How about the L.A. Four?" Peter suggested.   
   "Mmm I dunno Pete," Micky frowned.   
   "What about the Wranglers?" Mike offered.   
   "We're _not_ ta bunch o _cowboys_ ," Davy laughed dryly.   
   "The Grape Apes?" Micky said half-heartedly, "we could all wear purple fur costumes and - _never_ mind," he said, seeing three scowls.  
   Frustrated, Micky got out of his seat and climbed the banister. Davy watched curiously as he nimbly hand-and-footed his way to the upstairs railing and proceeded to hang from it sideways by one hand and leg.  
   "Mick will ya quit _monkeying_ around?" Mike said, sounding annoyed, "we need to try an-"  
   " _Tha's IT_!" Davy shouted, jumping from his chair.   
   "What's _what_?"  
   "We could call ourselves _The Monkees_ ," Davy said excitedly, gesturing toward Micky "spellin' it with _two ees_ \- sorta like a play on the way the Bea'les is spelt!"   
   The guys looked at one another, Micky hopping to the floor with a giddy look on his face.   
   "I like it!" He declared.  
   "It's _definitely_ catchy, and I **_love_** the whole Beatles reference," Peter added.  
   They all turned to Mike - big papa and decision maker - anxious to hear his opinion.  
   "By gosh Tiny I b'lieve you done _hung the hog_ on the fence."  
   "I did _wha'_ now?" Davy asked, puzzled.   
   A huge goofy grin on his face, Micky clarified, breaching his roommates' language barrier.  
   "I think that he means we're _officially_ now The Monkees."  
  
    Rehearsals began immediately and they were quite pleased to discover that Davy fit in very well with their sound - not only complementing it, but perhaps even bettering it. He had a distinct swagger and pizzazz to the way he moved and sang, his diminutive charm totally lighting up their performance. Finally feeling they were ready to take on the public, they searched the classified ads for auditions, and got an _immediate_ hit.  
   Loading their equipment into the GTO, they headed out a little early for _Geronimo_ , a local club they were hoping to win an engagement at. Well heeled and combed they looked like a class act, four handsome talented guys ready to please the crowds. Business as usual for the others the audition was a brand new thing for Davy and he was a jumble of nerves. Doing his best to ease his mind, Mike cornered Davy with one of his classic pep talks.  
    "You're gonna be _fine_ Tiny. All you gotta do is walk in there with confidence, be your naturally charming, _bubbly_ little self and sing your heart out. You have _talent_ man, don't be afraid of the powers that be. They're just people like you n me, no _need_ to be shy - _no_ reason to be nervous."  
    Adding a quick wink to his sensible words, he had succeeded in putting Davy more at ease. They arrived at the club a little early and went inside to set up their instruments, having a quick look around. Approaching the manager Davy put Mike's words into action: He was obviously _still_ quite nervous.   
    "‘Ello my name is Davy Jones n we're The Monkees: These are my friends, Picky, Meter n Pike. _Erm.._ Mikey, Picker and-"  
   "Hello there," Mike came to the rescue, "I'm Michael Nesmith, this here is Micky Dolenz and this is Peter Tork," he gestured to his snickering bandmates.   
    Davy reddened deeply, intensely grateful for the timely assist.  
   "You fellas are up next so go on and get ready," the man replied with a chuckle, "And you, _little_ guy - ya might wanna leave the heavy work to **_Mikey, Picker and Meat_**."   
    Humiliated, Davy rubbed a hand over his still-pink face.  
    "Don't sweat it shotgun," Mike grinned down at him, "n don't try so _dadblamed hard_."  
  
    When their turn came, the boys literally rocked the house. They ran through a short set, opening with Papa Gene's Blues - a popular song of Mike's followed by Micky's Last Train to Clarksville - a war protest/love song. Peter played perfectly as always, gyrating in time with the music against the back of his guitar. Davy danced around on the dais keeping a steady rhythm with his maracas and tambourine, singing backup vocals as if he'd been performing with them for years. Lastly, with Davy center-stage alone at the microphone, accompanied only by an acoustic guitar, he blew them all away. His softly sung, heart-rending performance of his own song - I Wanna Be Free - proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was _truly_ born for the stage.  
    Mr. Bartleby, the manager, was indescribably impressed by them. Realizing Davy’s potential to attract every girl within fifty miles to come to the club, he flatly refused to hear the remaining auditions, hiring the Monkees on the spot. The job would begin in two weeks, and paid four hundred dollars a week - two shows a night, three nights a week. The four men were ecstatic to have landed a paying gig, the three oldest crediting their success to Davy’s talent and charm. As for Davy himself, he had finally found his place - not just in their new-formed family and the band - but also in his life.

   Thursday dawned hazy as days often did on the coast, making for a relaxed and lazy day for the guys, with one exception: Davy.  
    The miniest Monkee was a ball of energy, bored to tears and eager to get out of the house. The beach just wasn't going to cut it this morning so he decided to do some shopping. He invited each of his roommates to tag along, but they all politely declined.   
    "Pahrty poopers," Davy joked heading for the door.  
    "You be careful crossing the street now sonny," Micky teased in a squeaky old-lady voice.   
    "Yer not my _real_ mother," Davy teased back.   
    "Be sure yer a wearin' _clean unnerwear_ Davy case there's an ack-cee-dent," 'Grandpa Mike' joined in on the fun.  
    "Don't take any plug nickels," Peter smiled broadly.  
    "Uh _heh-heh_ er _ha-ha_ , **_shadda_ _p_**!" Davy called back smiling, and went out the door.   
  
    Ten hours later, the boys were pacing the floor. They had neither seen nor heard from their fledgling housemate since that morning, and panic was about to set in.  
    "Maybe we should go look at the stores for him," Peter said, a worried frown on his face.   
    "Pete everything closed up already a couple of hours ago," Micky said, "maybe we should.. I dunno _what_ we should do. Mike?"  
    Concern furrowing his brow, the elder man quietly fiddled with his hat for a moment.   
    "I think we should check with the hospital first - he may have been in an accident or gotten hurt somehow. We can comb the beach again before it gets dark, and ask around in case anyone's seen him. Then there's the malt shop and the movie theater. And if we still don't find him, we'll hafta call the police."  
    A subdued silence settled over them, their thoughts all trailing in different nightmarish directions. Ever the leader, Mike took charge in spite of his own fears, delegating tasks in true Papa Nez style.  
    "Ok so Pete, you check around on the beach - take his picture with you and show it to people. Micky you call the local hospitals and ask about him and I'll try the malt shop and the theater. Mick you stay here in case he comes home, and we'll all meet back here in thirty minutes."  
    Having something to do helped to calm them, but not much. They had grown very fond of Davy over these past weeks, and all of them, Micky in particular, would be devastated if anything happened to him. His search of the beach and its late-evening revelers left Peter empty handed. Mike too turned up nothing in his locations, his frustration growing deeper as he made his way around town. They arrived back at the house at the same time and comparing results, walked in together disappointed. They looked to Micky for better news.  
   "I called all three hospitals and they haven't seen him," Micky said, his voice full of anguish.   
   "Well look at the bright side good buddy," Mike tried to soothe, "at least that tells us he wasn't in an accident."  
   "Unless nobody found him yet, or if he's laying dea-"  
Before Peter could finish Micky sprang from the couch and ran upstairs, slamming the door behind him.   
   " _Way_ to go shotgun," Mike scolded.  
   Feeling guilty, the stress of the situation overwhelming him, Peter began to cry.  
   "Im sorry Michael. I-I'm so scared and _worried_ about Davy - I didn't mean to say that out loud - I was just thinking and-"  
   "Shhh," Mike hushed his cries, "I know Cotton. You'd never hurt Micky for the world. Go wash yer face, I'm gonna go talk to Mick."  
   Kissing his blond-haloed forehead Mike took the stairs two at a time to calm his other friend. He found Micky sitting on Davy's bed playing with his lover's nightshirt, his wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes a jerk to the Texan's heart strings. Sitting down beside him, he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.   
   "Wherever he is Micky, I'm sure he'll be alright. He's a smart kid and pretty tough for a _little_ guy, he'll be home or we'll find him. Pete, as you well know, gets over dramatic when he's worried n well, he cares about Tiny too. He feels _really_ bad about-"  
   "I _should’a_ went _**with**_ him," Micky interrupted.   
   Mike's stomach knotted at the thought that he too had abandoned their little one to explore a strange city all alone.   
   "Any of us _could_ have man, but we can't change that now. Kickin’ yerself _ain't_ gonna bring him home."  
   "As much as it'd break my heart, I'd be ecstatic to think he'd _met_ someone - and was having the time of his life right now.. just to know he's _okay_ ," Micky whispered. A fresh tear ran down his face, landing on the cotton pajama top.   
   "C'mon downstairs n we'll call the police, maybe _they_ can do something _we cain't_."  
   Micky swiped at his nose and nodded.   
   "Gimme a minute?"  
   "We'll be waiting for ya shotgun."

   Thirty minutes later the three boys sat on the sofa, lined up like birds on a phone wire. Fidgeting with his hands, Micky looked at the carpet feeling completely helpless. Peter, all sad, innocent eyes, sat next to Mike dying to grasp his hand for comfort. The policeman in front of him kept him from submitting to the urge, as propriety was a _big_ deal to Mike. They listened intently as the officer explained their policies on missing persons, becoming more agitated by the second.   
   "Do you mean to tell me we can't even file a _report_ until _TOMORROW_?" Mike said exasperated.   
   "I'm sorry Mr. Nesmith, but that's standard operating procedure. Mr. Jones may be fine, he could have simply lost track of the time. Perhaps he was angry at one of you and just doesn't _want_ to come home tonight."  
   "He could be _lost or hurt_ or in _**trouble**_!" Mike tried to reason.   
   "I'm sorry, I appreciate your concern. Per your report, he left at ten forty-five this morning. Tomorrow by eleven am if you still haven't heard from him, come on up to the station and we'll make an _official_ report. "  
   Peter sighed heavily.   
   "Thanks officer," Mike said flatly, "I'll show you out."  
   Mike took a weepy Peter and tucked him into bed. Inconsolable, he could only rub his tenderhearted partners back as he cried himself to sleep. He went out to the kitchen for a glass of milk to find Micky staring out the back doors at the beach. He ambled over to his downtrodden friend, laying a hand on his slumped shoulder.   
   "You should try to get some sleep."  
       Silence.   
   "Micky he's _gonna_ turn up, I'm sure of it."  
    No reply came from the crestfallen man beside him.   
   "You can’t _do_ this to yourself Micky. You need to be strong and keep it together man, Davy _needs_ you."  
   These last words finally did the trick, and the younger man broke from his reverie. He turned to face Mike, a look of pure determination in his eyes.  
   "I'm gonna _find_ him, I'm gonna bring him _home_.”  
   "Well you can. Butcha _cain’t_ do it in the dark, and you cain’t do _anything_ if you worry yourself sick!"   
   "I love him Mike."  
   Mike smiled and nodded.   
   "I'm not gonna sleep a _wink_ tonight unless Davy comes home.”  
   Mike sighed and patted Micky's back.  
   "You find sumthin on the TV; I'll put on a pot of coffee."


	4. Chapter 4

   Terrified and alone in the dark, Davy cried silently.  
           (Why?! _Why_ didn't I stay home with Micky, curled up in his arms watching the telly all day? **_WHY_**?)  
    He sat on a stone floor against a brick wall, blindfolded, his hands and feet bound. The air was dank as though he were in some sort of cellar, and he could hear and feel small creatures scurrying around in the darkness. Hungry and afraid, there was nothing he could do but wait.  
    He'd been having a grand time shopping, something he had rarely been able to do when he was with Robyn. In a little out of the way shop, he was delighted to find the perfect just-for-nothing gifts for each of the guys. They had made him feel so welcome and so much a part of their family, he wanted to do something nice for each of them, Micky in particular.  
    For Peter, Davy had purchased an intricately carved statuette of an Indian man and woman in a loving embrace. The details were _so_ stunning and the image so serene, he _knew_ the peaceful lover of their quartet would be absolutely enthralled.  
Shopping for Mike was easier than he'd expected, as he found an array of beautifully hand-tooled leather goods at the back of the trading post. After much consideration, he chose a black belt with the words **PURE TEXAS** etched into the back center, with a large silver buckle in the shape of the lone star state. For his sweetheart - _his Micky_ \- he chose an onyx and turquoise beaded bracelet with a sterling silver clasp. A token of his love, he knew it would look perfect on Micky's wrist: Masculine, sharp and distinguished. He expressed his feelings on the small gift tag attached to the bracelet's box.  
        All of it was lost to him.  
    As he emerged into the California sun, gift bag in hand, Davy was happier than he'd felt since his childhood, but it was snuffed out all too soon. Rounding the corner of the line of shops, his spirits were high but his guard was down. Walking toward home whistling cheerfully, he was in no way prepared for the cold-hearted predator closing in on him. The large man grabbed him from behind, easily encompassing his small frame in one long, bulky arm. Shocked and afraid Davy struggled to free himself, but he was no match for the man by either size or strength. With his free hand, his attacker forced a damp cloth over his mouth and nose. A pungent odor choked into his airway, gagging him as he fought to breathe. Unable to avoid inhaling the ether, Davy collapsed, unconscious, in the man's arms. When he awoke, he was in the cold and dark.  
                                                                                      *****  
   Micky was startled awake by a loud thunderclap. In the chair across from him, Mike was sound asleep by the light of the television. A flash in the sky through the window brought him fully alert and on his feet. Scrambling to the door he flung it open to discover a torrential downpour coursing onto the street in front of the house. He sensed more than heard someone step up behind him, and without turning spoke in a defeated voice.  
    "Something _has_ to have happened to him Mike."  
    The two watched the night shake and flicker as the violent tempest continued to rage. The wind whistled a mournful keening wail, that seemed to be itself weeping sadly for their lost little one.  
    "He never made it home, did he." Peter spoke from behind them.  
    It wasn't a question, it was merely stated as a torturous matter of fact.  
    Rain began to blow in through the open door. Wet sand pelted Micky's face as the wind whipped his hair into a tangled mess. He stood there, seeming to neither notice nor care. Very gently, Mike drew him into the room and closed the door. He led him to the kitchen and sat him down, where Peter was making tea. Leaving him only for a moment, Mike fetched a towel and wiped away most of the wetness from his shivering friend. He wrapped him in a blanket and briskly rubbed his back to warm him while they waited for the hot tea. They sipped the steaming brew in silence, holding one another's hands and waited for the sun to rise.  
                                                                                     *****  
   Miles away Davy dozed in his prison. He had given up hope of something to eat hours before, and sitting on the hard cold floor had caused his backside to go numb. Something with many legs skittered across his hands, scaring him witless and jarring him from sleep. He shook it off into the blackness, scooting in the opposite direction. Tears stung his caramel eyes and he fought hard to keep from sobbing.  
   He jumped abruptly where he sat, his breath hitching in his throat, as the distinct sound of a key turning in a rusty metal lock met his ears. Instinctively, he drew himself up tightly, as if he could hide himself or simply disappear. A heavy door creaked open close by and the sound of graceless footsteps drew near. Davy shook in stark terror, not knowing who or what to expect. The footfall stopped right beside him and something heavy smacked the floor.  
   He was seized suddenly by the arm and jerked forward. The unmistakable click-whoosh of a switchblade knife next to his ear brought a strangled cry to his throat. A sharp pain overtook his shoulder as he was turned harshly around. He could feel the cold steel against his skin. Blood pounded in his head and he became dizzy, unable to focus on what was happening around him. He was vaguely aware of being shoved to the floor on his back, his legs being hoisted into the air - then just as quickly let go.  
    Too afraid to move or even whimper, he lay quaking as the footsteps retreated in the darkness.  
        Door closing …  
               Lock turning …  
           _Silence_.  
    His breath began to slow and he gradually regained his composure, finally realizing that his hands and feet were no longer bound - the knife had set him free! He reached up and removed the blindfold, the harsh light from the bare bulb above stinging his eyes. Looking around he found on the floor a packet of butcher paper wrapped with tape. Caution and hunger battled it out and in the end hunger won. He ripped open the package to find inside a slab of cooked beef and some kind of white cheese. Tasting it tentatively and detecting nothing amiss, he devoured the food without restraint. Exhausted and full, he retreated to the corner and curled into a tight ball, hugging himself for both warmth and comfort. With bleak hopes for escape or rescue, he drifted into sweet dreams of Micky, and twisted nightmares of dungeons and loneliness.


	5. Chapter 5

   The sun rose over the quiet little beach house, but nothing inside was bright. The three men inside moved about listlessly, sleep deprived, their hazy thoughts were scattered in many directions. None of them were hungry so they sat at the table sipping coffee and waited for the hour of eleven to arrive.  
   No one spoke on the short drive to the police station, each of them knowing where the others' thoughts lay. Arriving at the station house they were escorted into a small room, where they waited for a detective to come and take their report. The officer listened sympathetically and attentively, writing every detail into his file. They gave him a photo of Davy, and a description of the clothes he had left wearing. Despite the insistence of the detective that they would do all they could to find their missing friend, the boys were restless. Unable to let it lie they felt they must do what they could on their own. Stopping at the Country Kitchen to grab a quick lunch they discussed their next move.  
   "So ever'one understands their part?" Mike asked the others.  
   "Yes Michael," Peter replied. His melancholy hadn't lifted, but he felt better knowing they were taking action.  
   "There's a copy machine at the Post Office," Micky said, sliding out of the booth, "we can make copies of his picture for Peter and me over there."  
   Mike tossed enough cash on the table to cover the meal and a tip.  
   "Y'all know what areas to cover right?" Mike clarified again.  
   Silent nods sealed their plans, everyone eager to cover the city. Ten minutes later, they left the GTO parked in town and set off in search of answers. They would meet back at the diner at four o'clock.  
                                                                                      *****  
   The next morning Davy woke up cold and in knots. The hard, damp floor was unforgiving, leaving him chilled and oh so achy. He yawned, the deep breath of it sending him into a barky, sputtering coughing fit.  
          (Great.. last I need _now_ is to catch cold)  
   He was hungry, but more than anything he needed to pee. In desperation, he decided he had no choice but to wander into the far corner and see about his business. Attempting to stand however proved impossible, as sometime during the night he'd been chained to a large pipe in the wall. The short length of his restraints would allow him to move only ten inches in any direction: His bladder would have to wait.  
   His captor had left a quart bottle of water beside him and a foil pan covered tightly in plastic wrap. He broke the seal of the bottle and drank deeply, relieving his parched, sore throat. The foil pan held two sausage links and a biscuit, cold and greasy. Knowing only too well food could be withheld at any time (yes people are _that_ unkind) he ate the tasteless meal to keep up his strength. Trying to be smart, he washed his food down with a swallow of water and tucked the bottle away for later; _just in case._  
   His thoughts turned to home and his friends. With all of his soul he wished he had stayed at home with them - safe, warm, _protected_. Surely by now they understood that he was in trouble, would they be searching for him? There were no windows in his underground keep, and though he knew much time had passed he didn't know if it was day or night - the same day or the next. Still, even if the guys were looking for him, even _he_ had no idea where he was: For all he knew he was no longer in Malibu.  
   The grinding squeal of the key turning in the old iron lock set his heart to pounding in his chest. So alone and afraid to face his assailant, it was all he could do not to cry out when the heavy old door groaned open on its rusty hinges. With the doorway obscured in the darkness beyond, he couldn't see who entered the room. This time, there were two sets of footsteps approaching him. His fear multiplying, he trembled visibly in the corner. As his aggressors came into view, Davy drew in a sharp breath. Eyes wide in disbelief, his heart sank, as the bottom dropped out from beneath his entire universe. He shrank against the wall in fear and desperation, willing himself to simply pass through it into oblivion. Unable to do anything but gape, he stared up into the end of his happiness.  
   He knew it was coming before anyone moved. His thoughts on Micky and their last sweet kiss, he boldly glared at his jailors through tear-filled eyes. The blow struck him hard on his right cheek, landing across his eye. He flew sideways into the wall, feeling as if his eyeball would explode out of its socket. His head hit the brick with a hollow thud making the room spin, his vision blurring. He lay silent and trembling, when a swift kick came to his ribcage. A breathy cry escaped him as he clutched his stomach in searing pain. He curled into a fetal position, his head ducking down in defeat.  
   With a satisfied and cruel grin, Robyn knelt beside him and whispered evilly.  
   "Hello David, _missed me_?"


	6. Chapter 6

   Scouring the town with a fine-toothed comb Mike and Peter had absolutely no luck. While a few folks had recalled seeing their diminutive friend, none had any idea where he was at the time. With heavy hearts, they carried on their efforts. Micky had made his way along the shops on the west end of town, showing Davy's picture to anyone he could. Several merchants had recalled seeing him the day before, but could offer no other information on the missing Englishman. The owner of the last shop remembered Davy quite well, as he had made a fairly pricey purchase: much to the man's delight. He recalled that he had left the store around six pm, just before he closed for the night.  
   Stepping onto the sidewalk, Micky hesitated. He was about to head back to the diner when something - some inner instinct - made him turn around. He walked around the corner of the building and onto the sandy stretch that led the quarter mile back to the beach. The night's thunderstorm had washed away any tracks that may have been left, but a few feet away something caught his eye. There on the ground lay a bag from the shop he'd just left, sodden from the rain and spattered with wet sand. He picked it up, shaking it free of water, carefully examining its contents: A wooden statue of an Indian couple, a leather belt and a small box with a card attached.  
   With quivering hands, he unfolded the gift tag and read the words in Davy's familiar script:  
                                         _To Micky: A token of affection_  
 _For the one I cherish._  
 _Love Always, Davy_  
   He jerked the lid off the box and found inside the beautiful bracelet Davy had so carefully selected for him. Dropping to his knees in the wet sand he fastened it on his wrist, and kissing it once, examined it through tear-filled eyes.  
   Mike and Peter paced the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. They'd been waiting together for Micky since quarter of four, and it was now four twenty-five. The last thing they needed was for him to disappear too. Just as panic was about to set in, he came slowly up the walk, eyes downcast. Without a word, he walked past them and got into the back seat of the car. Exchanging a worried glance, his friends followed suit, attempting to question him from the front seat. It was all Micky could do to shake his head and let the tears fall freely. Deciding to give him some room Mike started the motor, casting one last glance his way as he backed out into the street. Confused, tired and despairing, they drove home in silence.  
                                                                                      *****  
       Davy was devastated.  
   Everything was finally falling into place in his life: love, friendship, an exciting new career - he was so exquisitely happy - and Robyn had found him yet again. A sinking feeling in the pit of his gut told him that this time he would pay dearly for his folly.  
   They had taken him out of the cellar and driven to a run-down motel off the nearby highway. He lay chained to the radiator heater, his ankles bound, duct tape covering his mouth to keep him quiet. The TV blared on a table across the room and the large, smelly thug that babysat him dozed in front of it. Robyn relaxed on one of the beds, sipping brandy and reading the local paper. With every ounce of his mental energy Davy tried to send his thoughts and vibes out, hoping that somehow his desperate need would cosmically reach his lover’s heart.  
          (MICKY I NEED YOU! _**PLEASE**_ , DON'T GIVE UP ON ME - PLEASE _COME AND FIND_ ME!)  
   He was in tremendous pain, as Robyn continued his angry tirade throughout the day. Sudden kicks and punches to whatever part of Davy he could strike left him bruised and bleeding. Denied access to the bathroom, his bladder felt as if it would burst at any moment. His hunger and thirst raged inside as he watched the two men eat and drink in front of him, neither offering the smallest crumb.  
   With all of his physical discomfort and suffering, the ache in his heart hurt so much more. His hearing acute, he overheard his jailors discussing ' _the plan_ ': He was being taken back; back to Phoenix with Robyn. Away from his newfound freedom, his new family and worst of all, from Micky. Once more, Davy began to cry.  
                                                                                      *****  
   Back at the pad, Micky was finally able to tell his story. Through frequent sobs and broken words, he told of his chat with the man at the emporium and his subsequent discovery in the sand. With careful, shaking hands, he laid on the table the lovingly chosen gifts that Davy had purchased for Peter and Mike.  
   Peter took in the figurine with subdued silence, gently caressing the beautiful piece as tears trickled from his sorrowful eyes. He hugged it to his breast, lightly resting his chin on its crown. Mike in turn took hold of the leather belt, letting its smooth surface graze through his fingers. Tears fell freely as he read the inscription of 'PURE TEXAS', his face twisting in agonized grief. Micky then held out the tag with Davy's scrawl of love-filled words for them to read. When they had finished, he held up his wrist to proudly display the piece of his heart he now wore for all the world to see. Mike wiped his eyes and fought to compose himself. Still hugging his wooden figurine, Peter stared at the table with a sadness like he'd never felt before. The three men sat quietly for a moment, until Mike noticed something on the table.  
       It was a soggy matchbook.  
   "Now where did _this_ come from?" he said aloud.  
   "I found it in the sand by Davy's shopping bag," Micky said dully.  
   Turning it over, Mike read aloud, "Malibu Motor Inn."  
   For a moment nobody spoke. Suddenly, Mike's head snapped up.  
   "Wait a sec - you found _this_ by Davy's bag of presents?"  
   "Yaa, what's the big deal?"  
   "Doncha see Micky - this might be a _clue_ as to where he is! Davy doesn't smoke, so whoever's got him may have dropped this matchbook during the scuffle of _nabbin_ ' him!"  
   Micky jumped up so fast he knocked over his chair, startling poor Peter.  
   "We _gotta go_ we gotta _get_ there Mike - we **_have_** to find _**Davy**_ we-"  
   "What we _hafta do_ shotgun, is take this to that detective and tell him what we know. Man we have _no idea_ who's got Davy or how dangerous they might be! For his safety _and ours_ , we need to leave it to the police."  
   "Yaa ok Mike, but c'mon we can't afford to waste a _minute_ \- there's no telling _what's_ happening to him right now!"  
   "Okay, we'll go - just calm down man you're gonna have to tell this all to that detective n you need to be clear headed."

   They hurried out the door and drove straight to the station house. Detected Fleming was on the phone when they arrived. In spite of their insistence that their visit was urgent, they were told they would have to wait in the lobby until he was free. Full of restless energy, Micky paced back and forth waiting for the officer to call them back. Thirty minutes later he finally did. With great effort, Mickey slowly and calmly gave all of his information to the attentive detective. He took the matchbook from Mike, examining it carefully, deep in thought.  
   "I'm really _very_ impressed with your digging Mr. Dolenz," Fleming spoke, making some notes, "David must be very important to you boys. I'll need to speak with Mr. Martinez at the Whot Not Spot, and if your story checks out, I'll head over to the motel."  
   "Thank you Detective Fleming," Mike said, "we'll be waiting for your call."  
   Outside of the station, Micky was a bouncing ball of nervous energy. He pleaded with Mike to follow Fleming and Mike flatly refused.  
   "Listen up cowboy, the police do this sort of thing _all_ the time. If we tag along behind all we're gonna do is git in the way n you know it. We're going on home n wait like we said we would n that's that."  
   Micky reluctantly agreed and they headed for home. When they finally heard from Fleming, it was not by phone - he showed up on their doorstep.  
       _Alone_.  
   Like birds on a wire once again, the boys sat expectantly on the sofa waiting for news. The officer spoke in a low voice, and would hardly meet their gazes as he told of what he had learned.  
   "Martinez confirmed your statement Micky, that David was shopping at the _Whot Not Spot_ early yesterday evening."  
          ( _first name_ ) Mike thought ( _ **not**_ good)  
   "My partner and I checked the area around back of the strip where David was obviously picked up from - we found tire tracks and an ink pen with a logo for the same motel."  
   Here Fleming paused, as if continuing was something he would rather not do.  
   "We arrived at the inn and the front desk confirmed a booking for a Robyn Spencer, giving us the room number. We surveilled the room until the search warrant came through and _no one_ came or went the entire time but.. when we went inside, the room was empty. I'm sorry fellas."


	7. Chapter 7

   The car rode along smoothly, eastbound, for the Arizona state line. Davy stared silently out the window, not noticing much that went by him. A darkness had overcome him and he felt very little in the way of emotion. No longer caring about his painfully empty stomach, his only thought was that he would not survive six more years with Robyn, nor did he _want_ to. He considered _how_ he could do it, and his own cowardice left him despairing - he didn't do pain well - he hated needles and even the smallest cuts. How could he manage to harm himself enough to bring about his own end?  
           (It's _hopeless_.. and nobody cares enough to try n find me)  
    Perhaps they did. Maybe they thought he'd left by choice. He had run away from Robyn enough; it would be easy to assume he had simply run off again.   
           (But Micky _HAS_ to know - surely - how _**much**_ I've grown to love him.)  
    Still, here he was, on a nightmare ride, with the monsters that haunt every childhood dragging him back to the tarry pits of his own private hell. The dizzying array of wicked fears, and visions of his bleak future had worn his brain to a frazzled, steaming mass of bubbling flesh. His mind blessedly began to fade, and he drifted into a haunted sleep.  
                                                                                      *****  
    Micky sat in the darkened living room staring at nothing, a haunted shell of the vivacious man that Mike had known for so long. Watching him from the kitchen the tall, slim Texan's heart broke for his now muted, spark-less friend. With Peter taking a much-needed nap, Mike felt an obligation to his heartbroken pal. He went to Micky, and quietly sat on the floor beside him. He took him in his arms, laying his head on his sturdy shoulder. Speaking softly, he tried to ease his aching soul.  
    "Mick, I'd like to say I understand what you're feelin, but I don't. I know you love Davy, and it's _killin_ ' you for him to be gone n in trouble. I miss the little guy too, we _all_ do. All we can do is hold on tight to each other and pray for the best. He's a tough'n to break - he'll hold his own till the law can find him n bring him home."  
    Micky's hot tears dripped onto Mike's shirt. He held him, and rocking him gently stroked his wavy hair.   
    "Its okay man, I'm here. Let it out babe."  
   With sudden, gasping sobs, Micky broke at last. He cried out all of his anguish on his friend's willing and solid shoulder, until no more tears would come. In utter exhaustion, he fell into an overdue and justifiable sleep.  
                                                                                      *****  
    Brutal Larson was stoic but not unflappable. Robyn's constant digs and put-downs were wearing on him, and frustrated, he groped for a way to please his boss. The day was growing late, and they would need to stop soon for some supper and a night's rest. In spite of his control of Davy's purse strings Robyn was a tight-fisted miser, except where his own comforts came into play. Determined to garner a little praise from the haughty Englishman, Brutal made up his mind: He would make the phone call.  
   "Hello?"  
   "Hey man, it's Brutal..."  
                                                                                       *****  
   "Micky, _wake up_!" Mike said, startling the drummer from a sound sleep, "You have a phone call - it sounds _urgent_!"  
   Fully alert Micky sprang from the couch and hurried to the kitchen. The lengthy conversation with Micky's exclamations of _NO WAY_ and _OH MY **GOD**_ had Mike and Peter on pins and needles. Anxiously pacing the floor the two all but leapt on Micky when he'd hung up the phone.   
   "Guys, _guys_ \- let me come up for air!" Micky shouted in frustration and excitement.   
   "Is everything ok?" Peter asked, nervously chewing a fingernail.   
   "Who was on the phone?" Mike interjected, "Was that about _Davy_?"  
   Eager for answers they followed Micky upstairs and listened as he hurriedly threw some things into a duffel bag.   
  " _ **THAT**_ was Tony on the phone," Micky rattled off, "you guys need to throw a bag together - you're **NOT** going to _believe_ this!"  
                                                                                      *****  
   Davy woke with a tremendous headache, the stress of his situation and lack of food finally catching up to him. The light of day had faded into the dusty purples and oranges of the evenings setting sun, and he did not recognize his surroundings - except that they were in a dry and seemingly desolate place.  
           (The desert - _we must be in Arizona_ )  
   Robyn and Brutal spoke in the front seat in muted tones, apparently trying to fathom out the way to their current destination. Not interested in this, Davy turned back to the sunset view, a simple comfort in the midst of his tumultuous ordeal. They turned onto a gravel-lined drive and a twinge of familiarity sparked Davy's attention. Keeping his thoughts masked, he absorbed this with a growing mixture of glee and trepidation.   
   The scenery quickly changed. The dry, sandy, patchy ground was morphing into a lush green lawn. Trees dotted the landscape, flowering jasmine and Spanish flag vines intertwining with their low branches. Rounding a curve in the drive the distant estate came into view - and Davy's heart leaped into his throat - pounding so hard he was certain that Robyn would hear it. He bit down hard on his tongue to assure himself that he was not dreaming: Indeed, he was _wide-awake_.  
   They pulled to a stop in front of the mansion and Davy was forced roughly from the back seat. He stood silently, willing himself to keep calm as Brutal knocked on the front door. It all seemed to unfold in slow motion:   
   As the door opened, Davy fought not to react as Tony stepped over the threshold and greeted his old friend. Robyn took Davy gruffly by his shirt collar and dragged him to where the others stood, eyeing Tony suspiciously.   
   "I trust my doddering cohort has advised you of our.. circumstances," Robyn said to Tony, "With the _runway trouble-maker_?"  
   "He has," Tony answered smoothly. He turned to Davy.  
   " _David_ is it?"  
   Davy caught the hard glimmer in his dark eyes and swallowed.   
          (He's telling me to keep it quiet, _play it cool_ )  
   Robyn elbowed his ribs sharply.  
   "Speak up you _impudent_ brat! He _asked_ you a question."  
   Davy stifled a whimper as Robyn dug his fingers into the meaty part of his upper arm. Sheepishly, he glanced up at Tony.  
   " _Y-Yes_ sir, it's David."  
          ( _Good_ Tony thought, he _understood_ )  
   "Well David Buona sera, welcome to my home. While your circumstances are between you and your guardian, I will provide you all with shelter and comfort for the duration of your stay. I do hope you're all comfortable in my humble abode."  
   Tony turned and led them into the front parlor. Nicky stood waiting by the door, quickly relieving them of their bags.  
   "My brother Nicky will show you to your rooms. Feel free to take some time to freshen up; dinner will be ready in an hour."  
   He nodded politely to his guests, walking briskly in the direction of the kitchen.   
                                                                                      *****  
   Unable to reach Detective Fleming by phone, Micky left him a detailed message as well as his cell number. The trio threw themselves together quickly, with Micky making sandwiches while Mike and Peter packed. Wasting no time, they jumped in the car and sped to the gas station filling up the tank. Much as they'd have liked to let the authorities handle the matter, timing was crucial - they _had_ to make it to Yuma in time for their role in Tony's plan. Throwing caution to the wind, Mike laid the gas pedal to the floor when they entered the freeway, with everyone buckled in securely, his only concern was getting to Davy as quickly as possible.  



	8. Chapter 8

   Davy paced the floor, his mind a tangle of confused thoughts. For fear of being seen as too cruel, Robyn did not chain him to anything in his room, but simply left him behind locked doors, requesting of Tony a copy of the key. Ensconced in the small second-floor bedroom, He struggled to reason out the situation for what it was. Scared and unsure, he fought to convince himself that Tony, of all people, was not a party to the treachery that had come upon him.   
    He sat in a chair by the window trying to gather his wits when a strange sight met his eyes, and for a moment, he thought he was hallucinating from all the stress: The wall panel between the closet and the bathroom slid slowly open and Nicky entered the room. A shushing finger to his lips, the dark-haired young man knelt beside him and spoke in rapid, hushed tones.   
    "Listen to me carefully David as I only have a moment," he began, "The panel I came through only opens from the other side, it connects my bedroom to this one. Tony is aware of what is going on - he called Micky and the guys and they are coming for you. Do not let on like I've said anything - you must act normal! Just know that you're going to be ok, and everything is under control."  
   Nicky lay a comforting hand on his knee, then stood and promptly disappeared through the open panel.   
   The sheer relief that rushed into Davy's mind and heart nearly made him weep. To know that someone was on his side - that someone genuinely cared - lifted his spirits higher than the clouds.  
   In the bathroom he washed his face and hands, running his fingers through his gnarled and dirty hair. He had to get himself together: Robyn knew him very well; he would have to mask his emotions to the best of his ability. Calling up every ounce of his strength, he gathered his resolve for the most challenging performance of his life.   
          (I'm here Micky n I am _tryin_ ' to be strong - _PLEASE_ hurry!)  
    He took again his place by the window and waited, praying that everything would work out.  
                                                                                      *****  
   Tony served dinner to his guests in the dining room with all the accouterments: Roast pork, Brussels sprouts and new potatoes with a fine chardonnay. Brandied apples for dessert topped off the fine feast, and the three men spent the remainder of the evening in the parlor in conversation. While Robyn had refused Davy permission to join them for dinner, he conceded to Tony's offer for Nicky to take him a tray of food. When the meal came, Davy devoured it - it was the first real food he'd had in three days.   
    As before, Brutal had over-imbibed and was quite drunk. Robyn had easily downed a bottle of wine himself, and was now sipping a fine cognac by the fire. Tony casually sipped a glass as a social grace, but was careful to keep himself sharp and alert. He glanced at the clock: Eight-fifteen. Micky and the boys should be arriving in Yuma within the hour. Right on schedule, Nicky came into the room.   
   "I've finished with the kitchen, the dishes are done and all the food is in the Frigidaire.”  
   "Very good Nicky," Tony said, playing the game, "have you done all of your chores for today?"  
   "Yes sir," Nicky replied, playing the obedient one, "may I go to bed now?"  
   "Have you left fresh towels for our guests Nicky?"  
   "No sir, not yet," he said sheepishly.   
   "Well see that you _do_. Lay out some sweet rolls from the deep freeze for breakfast as well, and _then_ you may go to bed."  
   Head down respectfully, Nicky spoke softly.  
   "Yes sir, thank you. Goodnight."   
   He nodded to Robyn, and turning on his heels he was gone.   
   "Humph," Robyn snorted, "You've certainly got _that_ one trained rather well. If that rotten seed _I've_ to deal with were half as obedient he'd fare with far _fewer bloody_ beatings."  
   "Mmm," was all Tony could muster and still manage to keep his temper.   
   "Some of these mule-headed boys are too blasted willful for their own good - nothing a right good kick to the ribs doesn't cure though _eh_? Fucking **_David_ ** takes a good beating to get a respectful nod from anymore. Fine by me though, my hands have no qualms for administering him a right bloody pulping _any_ day of the week.. Starting to **_fancy_** it even."  
   Listening to Robyn's ramblings, Tony gripped his glass so tightly in an effort to keep from decking the jerk, that he was waiting for it to implode in his hand. The thought that anyone would want to hurt that sweet, kind-hearted, naive young man - let alone _enjoy_ it - was something Tony could not comprehend.   
   "Nicholas is a _good_ boy," Tony said, choosing his words carefully, "he shows me a lot of respect. In return, I treat him well, with a firm but _loving_ hand."  
   Drifting into an intoxicated haze, Robyn waved his words away with a careless gesture.   
   "I'm going to pour Brutal into bed," Tony said rising from the chair, "are you able to help?"  
   Robyn gawked at the snoring buffoon with disinterest.  
   "I'd bloody well _leave_ him."  
   Heaving a sigh, Tony wordlessly gripped the hulking form of his one-time friend below the arms. With great effort, he managed to half-walk half-drag him to bed, returning to the parlor and his most _un_ welcome houseguest.  
   "You're welcome to finish the chardonnay Robyn. I'm going to turn in for the night. I trust you can find your room?"  
   "I'll rotty well manage. Going to pop in on the little _vermin_ , then I'll be retiring too."  
   Tony clenched his fist behind his back and nodded politely.   
   "You have the key then?"  
   Robyn nodded, emptying the glass of cognac.   
   "Well, goodnight," Tony bid him, and left him to himself.   
                                                                                      *****  
    Detective Fleming raced up highway eleven like a man on a mission. He didn't get Micky’s message right away, and called his cell phone as soon as he'd heard. Knowing the three men were headed to Yuma on their own, he was desperate to intercede, preventing them from meeting a similar fate as their young mate. He had put in a call to the Yuma PD and was waiting to hear from an officer there: Not only was he way out of his jurisdiction, but he had a feeling he was going to need some backup.  
                                                                                      *****  
    Davy lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. He was beyond exhausted but filled with anticipation and dread - so sleep would not come for him. The house was eerily quiet and it unnerved him, the hooting of an owl in the trees outside his window enough to send him into palpitations.  
    The sudden sound of a key in his door brought him straight into a rigid sitting position. Heart pounding he watched with wide eyes as Robin crept into the room, locking the door behind him. With tauntingly slow yet purposeful steps, Robyn sauntered over to Davy - hands clasped behind his back - a fiendish gleam in his bloodshot eyes.   
    "What did I tell you would _happen_ to you if you ever **_ran away_** again David, _hmm_?"  
    Stark fear held Davy in an iron grip. Unable to move, his eyes locked with Robyn's in a desperate and mute plea for mercy. Heartless, Robyn drew slowly nearer.  
    "Tell me my little shit pile; did you _honestly_ think there was _ANYWHERE_ you could get to that was far enough out of my reach? _Tsk, tsk_ ," he clucked mockingly, "you _are_ ignorant at times David, _really_."  
    Now standing directly in front of him, Robyn brushed a lock of hair from the young man's eyes, a gentle motion that only served to sharpen what Davy knew was about to take place.  
    The blow was so sudden and hard it sent him tumbling over the bed and onto the floor. Before Davy could regain his bearings, Robyn was on him, pummeling him wildly about the face and head. Lacing his fingers together, he drove his doubled fists into the young man's solar plexus, knocking the breath from him in a harsh gasp.  
    Davy rolled onto his side as Robyn stood towering over him in smug satisfaction. Several hard kicks came to his already tender, bruised ribs - another to his groin. He felt certain that he was going to vomit. Blood dribbled from his mouth as fighting for air he attempted to plead for mercy.  
    "N-no more, _P-please_ Robyn. You _' **ave**_ me now - plea-"  
    His begging was cut off with a swift kick to the back of his head. Searing pain silenced him as a burst of stars appeared in his field of vision. A groan escaped him and the sound infuriated his tormentor.  
    " _SILENCE_!!" Robyn hissed through clenched teeth, dragging his left arm up behind him, "so _help_ me you'll learn respect or I'll _break you in **TWO**_!”  
    With these venomous words he jerked Davy’s arm, yanking it upward in an unnatural position. With a final snap and vicious twist, he smiled triumphantly to himself as the shattering crunch of breaking bones met his ears.  
    In spite of the mind-numbing pain, Davy held himself silent. Tears pouring down his face, his arm hanging limply at his side, he writhed in agony at Robyn's feet. His perverse need to punish and control slaked, Robyn left him behind a locked door and sauntered off to bed. Davy lay bleeding and broken on the floor - broken not only of body but also in spirit.   
    On the other side of the wall, Nicky lay in his bed. Heartsick and afraid he cried fat, silent tears for the young man in the next room, the hellish beating Davy had endured reaching his ears and moreover his heart. Desperate as he had been to help, he knew to interfere would only have made things worse for his friend. Time was marching forward; Tony's plan would be in motion soon. He only hoped for Davy's sake that it wouldn’t be too late.  
                                                                                      *****  
    Robbie Shapiro sat in his van outside the entrance of the drive to Tony’s family home. He waited anxiously for the call that would set in motion a series of carefully planned events that would make all the difference in one young man’s life. Each of them had a part to play, and all were prepared to fight for the soft-spoken, doe-eyed youth they had grown so fond of. His stomach lurched anew as he thought of the horrors Tony described that Davy had once endured at the hands of his guardian. His angry contemplation was interrupted by the light and vibration of his silently ringing phone.   
   "Yaa," he answered simply.   
   "Wait for five and drive on down."


	9. Chapter 9

   Just outside of Yuma Micky's cell finally found signal again. He immediately received notification of two voice messages and hurriedly played them back. The first call was from Detective Fleming - he had gotten their message and was driving to Yuma - he made it clear that they were not to enter the house where Davy was being held under any circumstances.   
The other message came from Tony. His instructions were brief but very clear, and Micky advised the others of the game plan. None of them said much, but they were all thinking the same thing: _Please, God_ \- look after our Davy until help arrives.   
                                                                                      *****  
        _Midnight_   
   Tony slipped from his room on silent feet and stole up the back stairway. Edging along the wall to keep the floor from creaking, he made his way to Nicky's bedroom and quietly went inside. Nicky rushed toward him about to speak but Tony quickly put a finger to his open lips. Nicky nodded and leaned into his ear.  
    In hurried words, he whispered of the horrible attack that Davy had surely been subjected to in the next room. Choked with emotion he was barely able to finish. Tony embraced him to offer some comfort, but time was short and they had to act quickly before anyone could find them out. As quietly as possible they slid open the panel that opened into Davy's room and stepped inside. The horror that met their eyes barely resembled the handsome young Englishman.   
   His face bloodied and swollen, Davy lay on the floor next to the bed. His left arm dangled at an odd angle, his right hand seeming to clutch at his stomach. Tony staggered backwards a step as if he'd been struck and Nicky stifled an anguished cry.   
They hurried to the pitiful form and carefully trussed him into a makeshift body sling. As gently as possible, they lifted his limp body and carried him through to the other room. Nicky closed the wall panel and they turned their attention to the sad figure lying limp on Nicky's bed. Tony's attempt to revive Davy brought nothing but a small moan from his young friend. Relieved to have gotten something - _anything_ \- he pressed on.  
   Gently securing Davy's injured arm across his chest, they moved him to the other side of the room. In the closet was a large door in the center of the wall. With Tony carrying Davy's limp and battered body, Nicky opened the door and climbed into the car of the old dumbwaiter. Tony lay Davy in his arms and secured a long rope to the buckle on the sling's harness, handing the remaining coil to Nicky.   
    "Be careful," Tony advised, "be quiet and come _straight back_."   
    Nicky nodded and slid the panel door closed.   
    Tony went back to his room and sent a text message:   
                          Package is being delivered - _damaged_ \- use care  
    Then he crawled into bed.  
                                                                                      *****  
   Robbie waited near the side of the house by the old coal chute. The van was running, its side door open wide. He could vaguely make out a sliding sound coming from the old tin shaft, and knew that Nicky was lowering Davy to him. A moment later, he saw the boy's shoes and reaching for him pulled him carefully into the night air. He released the catch on the hook and gave a quick tug on the rope - to signal above that Davy was free. The rope disappeared up into the dusty old duct, and Robbie laid Davy's inert form on the floor of the van.   
   He drove without aid of lights until he reached the road, and paused only long enough to send two messages.  
                          Package in transport  
    And  
                          MICKY - MEET ME AT MERCY HOSPITAL **_NOW_** \- NO TIME TO EXPLAIN  
    Then he sped off into the night.  
                                                                                      *****  
   Detective Fleming made a mad scramble to reach local law enforcement when he received Micky's latest message. The county sheriff's deputy would be meeting him at the hospital to interview David, and authorize him to assist with the case that was now in their jurisdiction.   
    Mike had barely pulled into the emergency parking area before Micky vaulted from the still-moving convertible and ran inside. Parking the GTO, he and Peter hurried to catch up. They entered the emergency department to find Robbie briefing a stunned and pale Micky, who all but collapsed as they stepped up beside him.  
    "... although he’s still unconscious, they said his vital signs are good and there doesn't appear to be any internal bleeding."  
Wide eyed, Mike and Peter exchanged a worried frown.   
    "C-can I.. see him?" Micky managed, fighting back his tears.   
    "I don't know paisan, they wouldn't let _me_ back there until they were finished with him," Robbie said sympathetically.   
    Distraught, Peter began to cry. Gathering him into a hug, Mike rubbed Micky's sagging shoulder with his free hand.  
    "Mr. Shapiro?" A nurse spoke from behind them, "you can see him now."  
    "These are his brothers - and roommate-" Robbie stretched the truth, "Please, they're _very_ worried, can they see him too?"  
    "Well.. alright," she said reluctantly, "but _not_ for long - and you all _**must be quiet**_!"  
    They followed her through the door and down a long hallway of closed curtains. She stopped in front of bay seven and gestured inside.  
    "Try not to excite him too much, he really needs his rest."  
    Anxious, Micky went in first, the shock of what he saw nearly throwing him off his feet. He reeled, grayness threatening to envelop him - were it not for Mike and Robbie, he would have fallen to the floor.   
    Davy's tiny body lay motionless on the gurney. Tubes and wires ran in every direction seemingly invading every private place. His beautiful face was a disturbing mix of green and purple hues and his innocent eyes were so swollen you could not define their subtle lines. A black eye stood out against the paleness of his skin, his sweet lips were lacerated and bloated. A large gauze bandage was wrapped around his head, a sling holding his left arm tightly to his bandaged chest.  
    They walked solemnly to his bedside where an IV bag dripped fluids into his veins, while various machines beeped and whooshed in the background. Instinctively, Robbie slid a stool underneath Micky's quavering knees. He sat and delicately took his lover's hand.   
   "Talk to him Paisano," Robbie whispered softly, "let him know you're here."  
   Micky swallowed hard to stave off the tremor in his voice. Softly stroking the back of Davy's hand, he licked his lips and began.  
   "Hey babe, Davy, it’s Micky. I'm here with you - so are Mike and Pete."  
    Salty and hot, anguished tears slowly plopped onto the sheet. Taking a deep breath, Micky carried on.   
   "You don't have to be afraid _anymore_ , cuz I'm not gonna let him hurt you _ever again_. You have to fight though do you hear me? _**Fight to get better**_! I love you Davy, and I _need_ you. "  
   Davy's sad battered face remained motionless and mute.   
   "Dave I -"  
    Sadness overcame him and Micky burst into sobs. He laid his head on the small hand he held in his own and cried his heart out.   
   " _Gentlemen_?”  
  They turned to see Detective Fleming and another officer standing just inside the room, compassion etched in their work-hardened features.  
                                                                                      *****  
   Tony was an early riser and today was no exception; showered and dressed he went downstairs to make coffee. He set about preparing some breakfast for his guests, waiting for act two to quietly begin.   
   The smell of sweet breads and bacon began wafting through the house and soon everyone else was awake. One by one, they drifted into the kitchen and sat at the corner nook: First Robyn, then Nicky - who promptly set about helping with the meal. The acrid stench that preceded Brutal met them before the man himself appeared, but Tony headed it off with a few timely lit candles.   
   When everything was ready, Nicky laded the table with the morning's repast: Crisply cooked bacon, orange sweet rolls, scrambled eggs, strawberries and great coffee. At Tony's instruction, he prepared a plate to take to Davy while the men dug in heartily. Moments later, as planned, Nicky returned carrying the still-full tray.   
   "Excuse me, _Tony_?" He said in a soft, faltering voice, "may I speak to you?"  
  Tony looked up at the young man's ashen face. He left the table, apologizing to his guests, and setting the tray aside followed Nicky from the room.  
                                                                                      *****  
   Peter and Mike went with Fleming and Deputy Ramirez to an all night deli nearby. None of them had eaten since late that morning, and coffee and sandwiches were the next necessary thing all around. Micky dozed lightly in the chair at Davy's bedside, fearing he would wake up alone and afraid, he flatly refused to leave his little one. A light tap on his arm brought him quickly and fully awake.   
   "I'm Dr. Fuentes, _Mr_.?"  
   "Dolenz," Micky finished, offering his hand.  
   "Mr. Dolenz. All of David's test results are in. He has a mild concussion, multiple cuts and bruises, four broken ribs and his left arm is fractured in two places."  
   Micky sat wide-eyed, mouth hanging open, utter anguish on his handsome face.  
   "In spite of all of that, his injuries are far from life threatening. We have him on some pretty serious pain medication but it should be wearing off anytime and - I expect him to wake up shortly. Do you have any questions?"  
   "How long will he be in the hospital?"  
   "I want to keep him for a minimum of forty-eight hours, and we'll take it from there. He'll be going upstairs to a private room as soon as he wakes up, so you and his family are welcome to stay up there with him."  
   "Thanks a lot doc."  
   Filled with relief Micky felt completely recharged. He took a leap straight up and made a series of rapid one-two punches in the air. Bouncing on his feet, he whirled twice to land on the other side of the room, and nearly barreled into Mike's food-laden arms.  
   "Good _grief_ Micky!" Mike scolded.   
   "I'm sorry! I'm really _REALLY_ really sorry!"  
   "What's gotcha all het'up?"  
   "He's _**alright**_! I mean he's _not_ alright but he's gonna _be_ ok!"  
   Excitedly the young musician jabbered off everything the doctor had told him, still bouncing in place on anxious feet.  
   "This is great!" Peter grinned genuinely, "I'm _so_ relieved!"  
  "That's really fantastic news man," Mike said with a tired smile, "but you get the sprite - you _definitely_ don't need any caffeine."  
   Tired but in high spirits the men sat quietly, eating their sandwiches and waiting for the slender young fellow in the bed to come around.  
                                                                                      *****  
   "What do you mean he's not **_bloody_** there?" Robyn raged.  
   Nicky trembled beside Tony.   
   " _HOW_ can he _**NOT BE THERE**_!"  
   "I.. I opened the door to t-take him his tray a-and -"  
   Robyn lunged forward, his eyes ablaze, to grab for Nicky's shirt collar, but Nicky never even flinched.   
   It happened so fast no one really saw it go down: Tony took hold of Robyn before he could reach Nicky, and was on the larger man's stomach on the floor in a flash. His large Italian hands wrapped snugly around the Brit's throat, he spoke calmly in a subdued tone.  
   "I'm going to let you up in but a moment. When I do, you are going to be calm, collected _and_ polite. Blink if you understand this and agree."  
        _**BLINK**_  
    "Very good. You will also restrain yourself from looking as if you are _THINKING_ of considering putting your hands on **_this boy_**. Blink if you understand _THIS_ and agree."  
        _**BLINK**_  
   "Very well then."  
   Tony stood and stepped back, having never even broken a sweat. Robyn regained his feet and fought to catch his breath, staring coldly at his adversary. The thinly veiled smile on Nicky's face irritated him, but he held his tongue.   
    "Where," Robyn began evenly, "might you suppose my _ward_ has gotten _**off**_ to? As tricky as he is, even **David** cannot pass through a locked door."  
   "I don't know," Tony replied smoothly, "all I can suggest is that we call the police and begin a thorough search of the grounds."  
                                                                                      *****  
   Davy sat up in his hospital bed firmly attached to an ecstatic Micky's hand. He was so thrilled to be reunited with his mates that the pain he felt retreated into a distant throbbing ache. The two policemen had finished interviewing him, and had taken numerous pictures of his tremendous injuries. An armed deputy stood outside the door and no one was permitted inside but his 'family', the police and hospital staff.   
    "I'm so ' _appy_ to see you fellas," Davy said for the tenth time.   
    "We were _so_ worried about you Davy," Peter said, "poor Micky just cried and cried"  
   "Well with a bitta luck that Robyn guy'll be behind bars," Mike said hopefully, "n you won't _ever_ have to be afraid of him again Tiny."  
    "You don't know _how bad_ I wanna kiss you," Micky mooned.   
    "Well, wha's holdin’ ya back?" Davy said impishly.  
    "I'm afraid I'm gonna hurt you."  
    "Oh ' _urt_ me, please!"  
    Grinning, Micky leaned in and very gently laid a tender kiss to the sweet mouth he thought he would never see again.   
Contented at last, Davy sighed.   
    "Now I feel bettah."  
    "Maybe so shotgun but you're a long way from recovered," Mike The Leader spoke up, "so lay back down and try n get some rest.”  
    Davy looked stricken, but Micky quickly reassured him.  
    "We're not leaving your side babe, I promise you!"  
    A brief nod and he hunkered down under the covers and closed his eyes.  
                                                                                      *****  
    Robyn appeared flummoxed. At a loss for words, he fidgeted for a moment under Tony's sharp scrutiny.  
    "No need to go to such lengths, involving the _police_ and rot. I'm jolly sure the little - that he's _not_ gotten far off."  
    "Well," Tony offered thickly, if you change your mind, you be _sure_ and let me know. I just happen to have the sheriff's office on _speed dial_."  
    The two considered one another - briefly locking eyes - silently locking wits.  
    "Right then, where would you recommend we look first?"  
    "We'll make better time if we split up. Nicky and Brutal can search the house; you and I can cover the grounds."  
    Playing their roles to the fullest, Nicky and Tony dutifully went through the motions of searching for Davy. For the better part of an hour, the two teams combed every inch of Tony's ancestral property, of course, turning up no trace of the missing young man. The four stood on the front veranda puzzling over the mystery when the crunch of tires over gravel came popping up the drive. Brutal drew a sharp breath and blanching noticeably, Robyn stiffened as three police cruisers came to a stop in front of the house.   
    "You _called_ them?" Robyn asked Tony, a tremble in his voice.   
    "I did not."  
   Two of the officers approached the unlikely grouping and looking from one to the other inquired in a brusque business-like manner.   
    "Robyn Spencer? Brutal Larson?"  
   Tony took a single step backwards gently tugging Nicky along with him, leaving the two thugs to stand out before the policeman's careful scrutiny. Dumbfounded, Brutal looked at Robyn for a moment unsure of what to do.   
    "Ahh yes gentleman, _impeccably_ good timing. I seem to have lost track of my young ward. It would seem that he's run away again."  
   Robyn made a valiant effort to appear calm, but the sweat that immediately broke out on his face waved a red flag in the face of his false concern and forced cool exterior.  
   "Mr. Spencer?" Fleming said to the vile man before him.  
   Robyn nodded pensively.   
   "Brutal Larson?" He turned to the oafish goon.  
   Brutal blinked, his mouth hanging open.   
   The deputy sheriff moved quickly, cuffs in hand to Brutal. The two officers from the third car were walking up to the scene on the porch as Detective Fleming continued.  
    "You're under arrest for the felony kidnap and assault of David Jones."  
    Reaching forward he grabbed Robyn's arm and snapped the handcuffs firmly onto his wrist.  
    "The _bloody_ brat is a lying little-"  
   "You have the _right_ to remain silent," Fleming began reading Miranda to them, "anything you say can _and WILL_ be used against you in a court of law …"  
   When he was finished, they walked the two down to their patrol cars. Tony came up behind, an urgent question burning on his lips.  
   "Deputy, could I make a point here, completely _off the record_?"  
   The trooper looked to Fleming, who in turn looked back at Tony. Both men shrugged in silent approval.   
   Tony turned to Robyn and like a bolt of lightning, his right fist struck the man square in the nose, knocking him down, a spray of blood soiling his expensive shirt.  
   "An _excellent_ point," Fleming smiled, hauling the vile man to his feet. Chuckling, the other deputies turned, walking away from the incident as if it never happened.  
    Nicky and Tony stood, arms around each other's shoulders, watching as the two evil men were driven away. Satisfied smiles on their faces, they walked into the house together. 


	10. Chapter 10

   The next morning Tony and Nicky joined Robbie, Micky and the boys in Davy's hospital room, marveling again over the story of Davy's amazing rescue at the hands of Tony, Robbie and Nicky. Ever grateful, Davy looked at Tony with bright, shining my-hero eyes.  
   "I cahn't _begin_ to thank y-"  
   "Kiddo," Tony interrupted him, "you've said that a dozen times now - you _HAVE_ thanked us, more than enough," He smiled a gentle smile.  
   "Just knowing that you're safe and back with your loved ones is _plenty_ of thanks for me," Robbie added.  
   "So what's gonna happen with Tiny here - now that he ain't got a guardian anymore?" Mike's forehead crinkled in concern.  
   "It's fairly complicated," Tony replied, "I have my attorney working on this, he's had to contact the Magistrate in David's home county. He-"  
   Seeing the fear in Davy's eyes he caught himself and quickly switched tracks.  
   "… He thinks it's going to work out."  
   Nobody missed the hesitation in his voice, and the group fell into an uncomfortable silence, each man lost in his own swirling tangle of thoughts. Thankfully, the doctor came in, relieving some of the pressure.  
   "Morning young man, how are you feeling?"  
   "Right better doc, 'cept fer me ribs."  
   Gently probing Davy's tender, taped-up abdomen, the man replied casually.  
   "Mmmhmm ribs heal slowly, you'll be sore for six weeks or so. Let's have a look here."  
   He dimmed the lights and shone a penlight into each of Davy's eyes, examining the pupils for size and reaction. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for the latest update.  
   "Well you're a fast healer - what do you say we get you home?" Dr. Fuentes said with an impish sideways glance.  
   The enormous smile he brought to his patient's face was remarkably rewarding indeed.  
   "Oh _YES_! That'd be _right swell_ of ya doc!" Davy gushed excitedly.  
   "I'll take care of the paperwork. No lifting, no driving - lots of rest and no long-distance travels."  
   "But.. we live in _Malibu_?" Micky said dejectedly.  
   "He can't risk any hard jarring in a car Mr. Dolenz, those ribs are still broken. One good bump could dislodge a bone and send it through his lung."  
   "It's not a problem," Tony joined in, "I have plenty of room, you all can stay with Nicky and I till he's able to travel."  
   "You live local?"  
   "Fifteen minutes away.”  
   "That would be _much_ more reasonable. I'll go get you discharged son."  
   " _ **Six weeks**_!" Davy squeaked, "We cahn't stay up 'ere fer _six_ weeks - we've got that gig to play in _ten days_!"  
   "The _ONLY_ gig you're playin' is takin it easy at Tony's place until you're back on your feet Tiny," Mike admonished. "I'll talk to Mr. Bartleby at the club n explain it to him."  
   "But we'll lose the job - 'es _bound_ to get somebody else to-"  
   "Then we'll find another gig." Micky insisted.  
   "Your well being is so much more important than any old _job_ Davy," Peter assured his friend.  
   "It's settled. Nicky and I will head back home to clean up a bit; ready your rooms. Robbie, can you stick around and help them find their way back to the house?"  
   "Of course, anything I can do to help.”  
                                                                                      *****  
   Later that evening Tony received a phone call from his attorney. He had urgent news and was eager to speak to them all together, making an appointment to come by in an hour. Davy nervously fidgeted in his chair while Micky paced a rut in the parlor carpet. Everyone was tense, eager to hear what the lawyer had to say. The waiting was torturous, but eight o'clock finally arrived with a punctual Gerry Santini.  
   "Gerry mi amici," Tony greeted, " _Wonderful_ to see you!"  
    "Always a joy mio caro amico!"  
   Back in the parlor, Tony introduced everyone and they all sat down together.  
   "Well the day is late and I know you're all anxious to know the details so I'll cut straight to the point," Gerry began, "After a great deal of haggling, the British Magistrate has agreed to let David remain here provided suitable arrangements can be made. He will be a freestanding citizen - without a guardian - as of his twenty- _first_ birthday."  
    "That's still over _two years_ away!" Micky said, panic in his voice.  
    "I'm afraid there's more."  
   Everyone sat in tense quiet, dreading the other shoe to drop.  
   "If within ten days David hasn't found a suitable replacement for Mr. Spencer, approved by the royal court, pending medical release he will be forced to return to England and will become a ward of the Shire until he turns twenty one."  
   " _NOO_!" Davy yelled, burying his face in his hands.  
   Peter and Micky turned simultaneously to look at Mike.  
   "Now wait a minute shotgun," Mike spoke up, "don't go n panic."  
   Davy looked at him hopefully through tear-filled eyes.  
   "How do I see about bein' his guardian?" Mike said pointedly to the lawyer.  
   "There are some forms to fill out, which I'll fax to the Magistrate. A few qualifications to be met -"  
   "Like what?" Micky asked.  
   "Having a stable home and no record of abuse, with David's trust fund income is not going to be a huge issue. Passing a background check - the most important factor though is that his guardian must be at least five years his senior."  
   The boys were crestfallen: Davy was about to turn nineteen: Peter, the oldest, was twenty-two.  
   "I guess that's that," Davy said softly, his head hanging sadly.  
Micky and Peter were in tears. Mikes frustration and helplessness were evident in his darkly shadowed features. Devastated, nobody spoke.  
   " _I'll_ do it." Tony said firmly.  
   " ** _WHA'_**?" Davy's head snapped up.  
   "I'll apply to be your guardian. If it's okay with you of course."  
   "He's old enough," Gerry said optimistically, "and he'll _certainly_ meet all of the qualifications."  
   "Will I be able to stay with Micky and the guys?" Davy asked timidly.  
   "The court will insist that you reside with your guardian David, until you turn twenty-one. He can allow occasional visits between you, but …" he trailed off.  
   Desperate, Davy searched Micky's eyes. Full of agony Micky knew he had to be strong for his heart-stricken little one.  
   "It'll be okay Dave," he began, "You'll be able to stay here in the states, and we'll see each other. T-two years will go by b-before you _know it_." Micky stammered.  
   The silence among them was vacuous. Davy looked as if a gentle breeze would simply shatter him if it glanced off of his pale skin. For the first time since they had come together, Nicky spoke up.  
   "David, I want you to say yes. Please."  
   A giant tear made its way alongside of Nicky's nose and down his cheek.  
   "I'm not going to bore anyone with my little sob story. Just know that in my life I have lost someone - someone you remind me _SO MUCH_ of! Somehow, after all these years, since _you_ came along I feel like I have him back. Like maybe I never _really_ lost him in the first place."  
   "Wh-who was it?" Davy whispered.  
   Nicky shook his head.  
   "Another time. It is so selfish of me to ask this of you, but if you go back to England - I am going to be nine years old and _all alone_ again. "  
    An eerie chill ran up Davy's spine.  
   "We can be like b-brothers - in a way. The time would _pass quickly_ ... I -"  
   Turning abruptly, Nicky ran from the room, leaving the others to stare after him in astonishment and sympathy.  
    Davy was beyond words. He gave a moment's pause to the decision in front of him, and with a hitching breath, he finally spoke.  
    "I.. I wanna stay."

   The next morning Davy lay on a lounge chair in a shady spot in the garden. So much had changed in just a few days time that he was feeling overwhelmed beyond belief. The quiet solitude of the serene and verdant flowery wonderland soothed his very soul. After a while, footsteps on the cobbled walk made him aware that someone was coming. Tony and Nicky appeared momentarily and asked if they could join him.  
   "How are you?"  
   "I'm doin' alright."  
   "Can we talk for a bit?"  
   Davy nodded.  
   "I've been thinking kiddo. Nicky and I have discussed it.. we're _overdue_ for a change of scenery."  
   Davy looked at them both, not quite following Tony's drift.  
   "I was wondering, how you would feel about _moving_?"  
   Frightened by what he was hearing, Davy could barely choke out any words.  
   "Moving - but I'll 'ardly see _Micky_ as it is!"  
   Tony chuckled lightly; Nicky cracked a knowing grin.  
   "I was _thinking_ Davy," Tony said with a huge smile, "of closing up the house and moving all of us to _Malibu_."  
   " _ **Yer joking**_!"  
   "Not in the least. Nicky loves the beach - he's an _excellen_ t swimmer and surfer. You'll be living with me as per court rules, but we'd likely be just minutes from Micky and the guys"  
   Davy’s face lit up brighter than a yellow neon sign.  
   "Tony that'd be s _ **o GREAT**_! You two.. wouldn't _mind_?"  
   "I think it'd be fantastic!" Nicky smiled hugely.  
   "So what do you say? Do we start packing the place up?"  
   "This is - it's just - I _dunno_ what to say!"  
   "How about get packing," Nicky suggested.  
   "Yes of course! I cahn't _believe_ you would do this fer me! _Thank you_!"  
   "Ok! It's settled then. We'll see if we can't recruit Micky and the others to help out!"  
                                                                                      *****  
   The next few weeks passed quickly for the recuperating young Englishman. Tony was approved to become his new guardian, and guarantor of his estate. He and Nicky had made two house-hunting trips to the Malibu area, but were so far unsuccessful. Micky kept Davy occupied as much as he could, reading to him, playing checkers and watching TV together.  
    Gradually, the terrible bruises on Davy's body and face were fading, and his ribs were nearly fully mended. His final appointment with Dr. Fuentes declared him well enough to make the trip back home. That afternoon, Mike broke the news that they had in fact lost their job at the club. Blaming himself, Davy attempted to apologize to his mates. Mike cut him off and held up his booted foot.  
   "Do ya see that shotgun?"  
   Davy nodded.  
   "That big ole size eleven is gonna go all the way up your-"  
   "What he's trying to say Davy is that it _isn't_ your fault," Peter intervened.  
   Davy dipped his head, feeling chastised.  
   "If it weren't fer me you'd all still _'ave_ that gig."  
   "We wouldn't have got it in the first place if it weren't for you Davy," Micky pointed out.  
   "Yaa but-"  
   "Besides, our new group is a _quartet_ , not a trio," Peter smiled.  
   "Well _sure_ but I-"  
   "Tiny how many times do we hafta cut you off to _shut you up_?" Mike said, an exasperated grin on his face.  
   "Face it babe," Micky teased, "You're not gonna win this one."  
   " **WOOHOO**!"  
   They all turned to see Tony come flying out the door, a look of pure victory on his handsome face.  
   " _What_?" Micky asked excitedly.  
   "Wha's goin' on?" Davy asked.  
   Tony grabbed Davy out of his seat and began dancing him around in circles. He let him go and planted a sloppy kiss full on Micky's lips.  
   "We got a _house_ \- four bedrooms - _on the **beach**_ **!** "  
   "That’s _amazing_!" Davy said, sharing his enthusiasm.  
   "How far away?" Micky asked tentatively.  
   "Nicky? The address please?" Tony grinned broadly.  
   "Thirteen thirty- _eight_ North Beechwood, Malibu," he beamed.  
   Stunned into silence the boys just stared.  
   "That - that's _right next door_!" Micky exclaimed.  
   "You betta Lasagne della nonna!" Tony said, hugging him excitedly.  
   "So.. this - this is _really 'appening_?" Davy asked incredulous.  
   "Yep," Nicky said, "we'll be living side by side!"  
   "When can y'all move in?" Mike asked.  
   "As soon as we can get there!"  
   "Well what are we still sitting around here for?" Micky said, jumping to his feet.  
   "Well," Tony said, somewhat deflated, "there may be one tiny problem."  
   " _WHAT_?" They nearly shouted in unison.  
   Tony turned to Davy.  
   "Kiddo, I'm considering a fourth member of the household. I won't do _anything_ you're not _**completely**_ comfortable with."  
   "... Okay, who didja 'ave in mind?"  
   Before he could answer, a rambunctious voice came calling from the walkway.  
   "So, is it _moving day_ yet?"  
   Robbie came strolling up to them, smiling like a kid in a candy store.  
   Davy grinned at Tony, throwing his head in Robbie's direction. Tony simply nodded.  
   "Well I dunno 'bout you chaps," Davy said cheerily, "but I'm right ready to _go 'ome_!"  
   He stood and offered his good arm to Micky, calling out over his shoulder.  
   "You ready Robbie?"  
   Feeling a peace like nothing he had ever experienced, Tony smiled, glancing around at his friends - _family_ really - with love and genuine pride.  
   Walking into the house Davy smiled, musing aloud to nobody in particular.  
   "Interesting.. I've never 'ad _two families_ before."  
   "Well you know what they say Davy," Nicky said from behind him, " _there's a first time for everything_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until the next round …
> 
> Thanks to my dear mother for always believing in me. R.I.P.


End file.
